From Frost to Flame

Part 48: He Watched, He Burned

DAY 5

Friday arrived with golden sunlight and something different in the air. Not heavy. Not tense. Just... charged. Like something was about to shift.

Pete walked into the office early. He wore light grey slacks, a soft indigo shirt with sleeves pushed neatly to his elbows, and his hair was styled a little neater than usual. It wasn't flashy, but it was effortlessly sharp.

Sky noticed immediately. "Whoa. Okay, Mr. Calm-But-Secretly-Killing-It."

Pete smiled faintly. "Just trying to look alive."

Sky narrowed his eyes, then nodded approvingly. "You look like someone with unresolved romantic tension in their life."

Pete coughed into his coffee. "Shut up."

But Sky wasn't wrong.

Pete wasn't trying to impress anyone. He wasn't performing. But he wasn't hiding anymore either. He moved through the office with quiet confidence, talking to his team, checking in on progress, and answering a few questions from Mr. Day without flinching.

Mr. Day, for his part, greeted Pete warmly, gave him a pat on the back, and stayed a few moments too long at his desk.

And from across the room—by the glass wall near the briefing table—Vegas saw it all.

He didn't say a word. Just stood there, one hand in his pocket, face unreadable.

Vegas didn't move. Didn't blink. Didn't speak.

Then Kinn walked by.

"Your jaw's gonna snap if you clench it any tighter," Kinn muttered, grinning as he passed.

Vegas didn't answer. But his gaze stayed locked on Pete.

Pete was sitting with Sky and one of the marketing interns when Mr. Day walked in. He spotted Pete and headed straight over.

He didn't sit. Just leaned in, asked about the status of one design module, and gave a warm smile when Pete explained his next steps.

Pete noticed the proximity. He didn't shrink, but he didn't play into it either.

And Vegas noticed everything.

From two tables behind, Vegas watched it happen—the lean, the smile, the easy familiarity.

He wasn't even touching his coffee.

Instead, he was slowly folding and unfolding the tip of a napkin on the table, over and over again. Crease. Flatten. Crease again. Like, he didn't even realize he was doing it.

Kinn, seated beside him with a casual air, glanced between Pete and Vegas, and finally said,

"You look like you're trying to set that guy on fire with your mind."

Vegas didn't blink. "I'm not watching anything."

"Right," Kinn said, sipping his drink. "That's why you haven't turned that page in five minutes."

Vegas snapped the file shut.

Near the end of the day, Sky and Pete were pulled into a short team huddle. Vegas walked in halfway through, leaning against the edge of the table, arms folded.

He gave a few notes on pacing, praised Sky for timeline accuracy... and when his eyes met Pete's, he held the gaze for a breath too long.

It was subtle. So subtle.

But Pete felt it. A flicker of something. Not warmth. Not coldness.

Just... watching.

Listening.